Can I Keep Him?
by Shadowsammy
Summary: /Three-Shot/ In which Sam is THAT child, and Dean has to say no - - - Dean stared at him. "No. I am not kissing the frog." "But, Dean! Look at him!" Sam protested. Dean whined, "What if I get, I dunno, warts or something? It'll look like I have herpes on my mouth!" - - - CH 1 of 3 "In Which Dean Kisses A Frog" /PREQUEL to The-Hard-to-Kill Club/
1. Chapter 1 In Which Dean Kisses A Frog

~Chapter One~

In Which Dean Kisses A Frog

 _Try to Tell Me What I Shouldn't Do.  
You Should Know By Now, I Won't Listen to You.  
Walk Around with My Hands Up in the Air,  
'Cause I Don't Care._

 _Gonna Freak Out.  
Let It Go._

~ _Freak Out,_ by Avril Lavigne

Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.

* * *

 **Location:** Outside of Lazy A Motel in Springfield, Illinois

 **Time:** 7:32 PM

August 16th, 1992

* * *

"Can I keep him?"

"No."

"But, Dean –"

Lifting his shoulders and huddling further into his coat, Dean pulled out his shiny, silver Zippo. Flicked it open with this fingernail and clicked it shut again after lighting a new cigarette (" _Cancer stick,_ " Sammy fussed at him). "Let me rephrase that – _fuck_ no."

"Curse words really shouldn't be used in the place of adjectives, Dean," Sam scolded in his high, pre-pubescent voice. Green eyes trailed scanned his older brother who, at thirteen, had become quite attached to the F-Bomb.

And Marlboro Lights.

Girls, too…

 _It was almost like Dean had been replaced by –_ Sam gasped _– aliens!_

"Words shouldn't be used to distract other people from saying FUCK NO to their little brothers, Sam," Dean retorted but worriedly glanced at his brother, hearing the gasp and pondering how long it took to die from lung cancer. Longer than being ripped apart by Hellhounds, probably.

"Besides, like Dad said, _I'm_ in charge, and _I_ say _no_!"

"But, _Dean!_ I haven't even explained yet how I rescued him," Sam whined, put out by the lack of attention to his heroics. Maybe PETA would give him an award!

Fingers still wrapped around the cigarette, Dean waved his hand at his little brother. He leaned back against the brick wall of the dirty, old motel. "Fine, Princess Sammy, _do tell._ "

"Ugh, I'm not a princess, Dean," Sammy griped at him with his Bitch Face, and in the light of the barely flickering neon motel sign, his forehead read _Lazy,_ since both the _A_ and _Motel_ had burned out. Dean smirked.

"Then what's up with the frog, Cinderella?"

"Dean, Cinderella didn't kiss a frog!"

"Okay, okay! Sleeping Beauty!"

"Tiana," Sam corrected.

"Whatever, Princess," Dean dismissed him with a wave of the hand not holding his precious cigarette. He finally dropped it to the ground and put it out with the worn-out sole of his big boots. "Put Frogger back in the swamp and let's head back in. I'm making fish sticks for dinner!"

"But I hate fish sticks," Sam whined at his brother, although his bottomless pit of a stomach growled at the thought of food, "and I'm not just leaving him here to get eaten!"

"Fine, fine, bring him along, but if you don't want fish sticks, the only alternative is frog legs," Dean casually remarked to his little brother as the pair of boys started the walk back to their small motel room.

"DEAN!"

"I'm joking, Sammy. You know I wouldn't eat Kermit…"

The Winchesters walked to the front of the building and turned the corner, where Sam bumped into his brother and caught the toe of his dirty sneaker a crack in the sidewalk. Suddenly, Sam went flying with a yelp. He landed, face-first and palms thrown out to catch himself.

"Ow…"

"All right, Bambi?" Dean teasingly asked, but his facial expression showed his concern. He reached out, helped his baby brother to his feet, and examined his scraped knees – little bit bloody, but not too bad.

"I'm fine," Sam mumbled around his tears. The youngest Winchester _hated_ crying in front of his big brother because it was so uncool, but _gosh,_ it hurt! "Chance!" He suddenly exclaimed, looking all around for the green amphibian. "Where'd he go?"

"What kind of name is _Chance_?" Dean asked him, just happy that Sam wasn't crying anymore, and helped look around in the bushes beside the sidewalk. _Found him!_ "Why didn't you name the frog after those weird little fighting animals of yours?"

"Pokemon, Dean, and Chance isn't really a Politwhirl-kinda-amphibian," Sam lectured the older boy. He loved _Pokemon._ Dean could keep his car magazines! "Besides! Frogs are considered good luck in some places, like China!"

Here, Sam lowered his voice to a whisper and guiltily rushed, "And…I might have wandered off while you were calling Dad from that payphone and I found him by the Chinese takeout place and I thought he might be special!"

Making a mental note to give his little brother The Talk (about not wandering off, not the _other_ one), Dean grumbled, "Only special thing around here is _you…_ " He finished wiping his knees with the sleeve of his plaid shirt and kissed them both to make his baby brother feel better. "Right. Did I get 'em all?"

The Baby Winchester smiled shyly up at his big brother, adoration glowing in his green eyes, and lifted the little frog in front of him, hands tucked under his little froggy armpits. "Chance hurt his nose!"

Dean stared at him, measuring the seriousness of his nine-year-old demands. "No. I am not kissing the _frog._ "

"But, Dean! Look at him! Chance's going to cry," Sam protested, big hazel irises glittering with unshed tears of their own. A wobbly, pouty lip completed the picture. _Yep. Definitely Bambi…_

"Dude," Dean whined, his voice squeaking in the middle, though the older boy would refuse to ever admit it. "What if I get, I dunno, _warts_ or something? It'll look like I have herpes on my mouth!"

"Myth," Sam countered these words with his books smarts and, sensing his big brother caving in, pressed Chance closer to face. The Baby Winchester let out a couple of well-timed crocodile tears for good measure. "Please, Dean!"

Dean poked him in the forehead and sourly muttered, "You _so_ owe me. You're doing the dishes for a month, Sam!" Glared at him with shiny green eyes.

"M'kay," Sammy immediately agreed. Unlike John and Dean, Sam _liked_ cleaning up. The boy also liked playing with stray animals, like dogs and cats and frogs and – okay. So _maybe_ Dean was on to something with the Disney Princess thing…

Without further ado, Dean leaned forward, with face scrunched and lips puckered, and barely touched them the nose of the frog, and then –

 **POOF!**

"Bloody Hell! Thanks for that. I was really beginning to wonder if I would be stuck hopping about like Trevor for the rest of my days!"

Both Winchesters leapt back – Dean adopted his favorite fighting stance; Sam tripped into the vending machine and rubbed at the back of his head while whining about his gangly limbs. "I hate being tall…"

A teenage boy with wild black hair and big green eyes climbed to his feet (standing at just short of 5'6") and blinked at them through a pair of thick, round glasses. Swiped his shirt sleeve over a dirty lens and blinked again. "Wouldn't know much about _that,_ but I _do_ know I prefer being taller than a toad!"

"Uh…" Sam gaped at him, but before the boy could shake himself out of his stupor, Dean squealed like a girl and began furiously scrubbing at his mouth with a strange desperation.

"Oh, God, oh, God! Fuck! _I kissed another boy!_ Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," Dean spat the words out in time to the sleeve wiping down his tongue again and again and again.

It could've been because of his fear of boy cooties, but the Baby Winchester didn't really believe in those kinds of things and instead rationalized that it must be because his big brother had gotten fuzzles in his mouth…

Amidst giggles, Sam faced the other boy and smiled at him.

"Thanks again for getting me out of that kerfuffle! I really should know better than to mess with Hermione. She gets miffed, but I can't quite help myself sometimes," The British teen explained with a shrug of his thin shoulders.

"You were _turned into_ that frog?" Sam gasped out in shock, and Dean stiffened. The Baby Winchester, Dean suddenly remembered, _had_ been left out of the loop in regards to the Supernatural…

"Yep," The British teen chirped and smiled widely at them, "She's the brightest witch of our age, and I might have – sort of, okay, _definitely_ – charmed her hair to sing the Barney Song to Ron. And 'Mione didn't much appreciate my sense of humor…"

"That is so _cool_ ," Sammy declared, practically gushing. Even Dean had to admit that would've probably been funny to witness, but still…

"It _was_ wicked." A glimmer of mischief lit in his brilliant green eyes. The British teen glanced down his front and began fiddling with a strange-looking necklace; it looked like a small hourglass to Dean. "It's been fun, but I really do need to be going –"

"Hey! W-Wait a minute! What's your name, anyway? Can we stay friends?" Sam protested, bouncing forward with both hands out in front of him. Dean bit back a sigh. It would be too soon if he heard the words " _Can I keep it?_ " again in this lifetime.

"I'm Harry – Harry Potter," The Brit introduced himself with a mock bow, letting the strange necklace dangle down in front of him. Doing so gave the boys a view of the little charm spinning in place. "Now, be a good brother, Dean, and help Sam back to your room."

"Dude. We didn't give you our names," Dean slowly voiced his observation, with furrowed brow and narrow green eyes. The Hunter-in-training slipped his hand down his coat pocket, searching for his trusty lighter.

"No need for that, Dean," Harry tutted at the older of the two. He wagged his pointer finger in his face, and while Dean debated biting him, Harry faced the younger of the brothers. "Don't worry. We'll be seeing each other again, Sam! Just give it a couple of years."

 _ **POP!**_

The Winchesters stood staring at the spot for some time. Sam finally shattered the silence and loudly exclaimed, "Cool!" with hero worship glowing in his big eyes.

Dean, however, rubbed his face and tiredly muttered, "I _hate_ Witches…"

* * *

***Author's Note***

HI! :)

 **I welcome you to the prequel to The-Hard-to-Kill Club,** another crossover story with Harry, Dean, and Sam. This story takes place in the early 90's, but Harry is, of course, off causing mayhem by using a Time Turner. He just couldn't resist going back in the past to meet the Baby Winchesters. :D

There will be _three chapters to_ this one, just like in The-Hard-to-Kill Club.

 **Up Next:** _In Which Dean Plays Fetch with a Werewolf_

 **PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!**


	2. Chapter 2 In Which Dean Plays Fetch

~Chapter Two~

In Which Dean Plays Fetch With A Werewolf

 _I've Been Running Through the Jungle;  
I've Been Running with the Wolves,  
To Get to You, To Get to You. _

_I've Been Down the Darkest Alleys,  
Saw the Dark Side of the Moon,  
To Get to You, To Get to You. _

~ _Wolves,_ by Selena Gomez

Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.

* * *

 **Location:** Wooded Area in Covington, Georgia

 **Time:** 6:15 AM

September 1st, 1999

* * *

 _Seven Years Later_

In the faint light of early dawn, Sam sleepily stumbled through the dense underbrush, big hands fisted deep in the pockets of his coat and broadening shoulders hunched against the cool wind. He yawned widely, still too tired to function normally; the Winchesters had pulled yet _another_ all-nighter in search of the supernatural nasty (or nast _ies_ ) responsible for the recent spike in weird activity in the Southeast region of the United States.

Random popping noises. _Check._

Crowds of people wearing dark, hooded cloaks. _Check._

Strange flashes of brightly colored lights, particularly of the green and red variety. _Check._

It had taken them the better part of two and a half days ( _and sleepless nights,_ Sam grumbled to Dean, who muttered back, _don't be such a whiny bitch, Sammy_ ) to recover the trail; it had been colder than ice for a week. With a decent lead and general direction in mind, John, Dean, and Sam had squashed themselves into the Impala to snake down the coast of North Carolina and into Georgia, following Highway 95 to the Peach State. An hour from Atlanta found them standing near a small, abandoned castle in Covington, Georgia. Countless urban legends whispered spooky tales about it, though the building had only existed since 1990.

Everything about this case was weird, but of all the reported disturbances, Sam had been most bothered by the popping noises and, for the life of him, could not figure out _why_ that might be so. The teenager might be a gentle giant, even with his background and his strict training in weapons and martial arts, but Sam could still kick ass! He, like most people, also enjoyed fireworks, as well as making popcorn, so why _would_ the tiny noises bother him?

Sam stewed in silence, thinking back…

" _Don't worry. We'll be seeing each other again, Sam! Just give it a couple of years."_ _ **POP!**_

"Harry," Sam recalled and mumbled the forgotten name as the trio of Winchesters climbed the hill and ducked behind the small, brick fence that hugged the side of the castle.

"Huh." John paused, frowned in thought, and made his decision. He crept around it and to the back, motioning for both boys to stay back while the older Winchester scouted ahead for enemies. "You two stay put. Be back soon. Dean, you're in charge."

Dean smirked in victory, lording his leadership over the youngest Winchester by bumping his shoulder into his. Sam fought the urge to sigh at this order and instead chose to take a seat, finger loosely atop the trigger of his favorite gun.

Dropping down beside him with a soft _thud,_ Dean eyed his little brother and teasingly hissed, "Hairy, huh? Only hairy things around here are _my_ chin and _your_ pits."

"Jerk," Sam grumbled at the twenty-year-old with a green-eyed glare. It really irked him that his big brother thought it funny to poke fun at his spots, his gangly frame, and his lack of facial hair. He subtly rubbed his hand down the soft, naked skin of his cheeks and chin.

"Bitch," Dean retorted and, knowing the coast to be clear for the moment, went straight for his head. Sam smelled him coming ( _figuratively, though Dean really did need to take a show after stepping in that pile of dog doo earlier…_ ) and ducked down to avoid his grasp. He used his additional three inches of height to his advantage and tackled the older Winchester boy, accidentally causing them both to lose their balance and tumble back down the hill.

"Jeez, Dean, why do you always have to be so violent?" Sam muttered, rubbing at the back of his head and trying to smooth down his brown hair. Dean had thought it pertinent to get even with Sam by giving him a noogie.

"Me? Violent? Never!" Dean scoffed, "and you're one to talk, Mr. Hulk-Smash!"

Embarrassed, Sam opened his mouth to apologize for using too much force and knocking them down the hill, when the nearby bushes began to rustle, shiver, and shake. The Winchesters stiffened and turned to the side, as one, to stare suspiciously into the darkness. Waiting…

"BARK! Bark bark!"

( _Hey! A bug!_ )

Several leaves parted to belch out a small lump of fur at their feet. It clamored to its four legs and quickly shook itself to get rid of the leaves hitching a ride in its tangled fur. The small, dog-like creature yipped happily. Dean and Sam blinked at it, and then each other, exchanging looks of confusion. _What was a puppy doing this far out here?_

"Yip! Bark bark! Bark bark!"

( _Oh! New fwends! Let's pway!_ )

It barked excitedly and began to sniff its way over.

Warily, Dean stepped back to stare down at the furry little menace – uh, cutie. "Werewolves? We thought it was a witch hiding out here and causing all of this trouble!" He hesitated, but ultimately decided to point his gun at the small, fluffy pup.

"NO, DEAN! It's just a puppy! You can't _hurt_ it," Sam exclaimed, diving in front of his brother to shield the little pup, which had looked to them and, in its excitement, tumbled face-forward into a pile of dirt. It scooched back onto its bottom and shook its head back and forth with an adorable whine.

"Hurt it?" Dean repeated incredulously, "Of course not! I'm going to _kill_ it! Kill it _dead!_ You know that's what Dad would want us to do, Sammy!"

"It's _Sam,_ you jerk, and what does that matter? Just because that's what Dad would want doesn't mean that it's the right thing to do! What kind of person chooses to hurt a puppy?" Sam demanded with his hands to hips. He painted quite the picture, standing there with pouty lips.

"Knock it off, Princess Sammy. Puppy or not, that thing is _definitely_ a werewolf," Dean argued his point, "and it'll be better for everybody if we just kill the little beast."

"But, Dean…" Sam suddenly piped, decidedly ignoring the insults because the bookworm, as the smartest in the family, had made connections that Dean had yet to make.

"What _now_?" Dean demanded while pointing his gun and aiming right between its eyes.

The teenager, though tall, shrank into himself and hesitated. He finally cleared his throat and slowly said, "Well, if an adult werewolf is fully developed in size, then a puppy would be…"

All of the color drained from his face, and Dean hoarsely finished, "… a kid. Jesus _fucking_ Christ."

"Yeah," Sam confirmed quietly, too stunned to even scold his brother for his choice of words.

The Winchester boys stared down at the little werewolf in silence. They watched it sway – and then stand, climbing to its two back legs. It wobbled in place for a moment and started to walk around the clearing, which, frankly, startled them. American werewolves looked humanoid. According to John and his network of Hunters, it was the _European_ werewolves that, while bipedal, looked like actual wolves.

As Sam moved closer to it, and Dean grabbed the back of his coat to keep him in place, the little werewolf in question stumbled again and tripped into a bush. It growled at the bush and yanked at a smaller branch, tugging at it until, finally, it came off. It tumbled back with the force of the pull and tumbled down onto its fluffy bottom. It sat there, blinked, and then sneezed, dropping the stick. It stared at the stick, then lunged, causing both Winchesters to tense, but it merely picked the broken limb up and trotted to the two of them. It came to a stop in front of them, dropped the stick in front of Dean, and flopped to its haunches, looking pleased with itself.

"Dude, I think the werewolf wants you to _throw_ the stick for him," Sam whispered to his big brother, shoving the words out of the side of his mouth like a cartoon character.

" _Him?_ " Dean asked, somewhat hysterically, and tossed both hands out in front of him, palm-up in a questioning motion. "How are you so sure?!"

"Well, uh, I could _check,_ but I doubt that I'll get away with lifting its leg to look…" Sam looked thoughtfully down at the little werewolf, and if it hadn't been for the twitch of his lips, Dean would have taken him more seriously.

But Dean only choked down a snort of hysterical laughter and glared daggers at his irritating little brother. "You're so damn funny," Dean grumbled. "Really, I'm dying here. You should totally be the next Bill Cosby!"

"Thanks," Sam cheerfully said, pretending to take his words at face value, before moving closer to the puppy and bending down to claim the stick. His hand had just touched the closest twig when –

"Nu-uh. No way. If anybody is going to throw the stick for the little bloodthirsty beast, it's going to be _me!_ " Dean hissed and ducked down to swipe it out from beneath his outstretched hand. Sam made to snatch it back, but his big brother pushed him away with his other hand. "You know what they say – finders keepers, Sammy!"

"…Wow, I didn't know you were such a dog-lover, Dean," Sam announced, surprised with the intensity with which his brother had fought to keep hold of the stick.

"I'm not, but if it – _he_ , whatever – decides to _attack_ and maim somebody…"

"Aw, I'm touched," Sam said and fluttered his eyelashes at him.

"Yeah. In the head," Dean muttered the confirmation.

Accustomed to this sarcasm and pessimistic attitude, Sam ignored the grump in favor of cocking his head to the side and observing the little werewolf bounce around in place; its tiny rump twitched and his tail wagged in happiness. He barked eagerly – and impatiently – at Dean.

"Alright, alright! I get it," Dean said loudly in exasperation. The Hunter lifted his left arm up, pulled it back, and – acted like he had thrown the stick. The little werewolf shot off into the woods in search of the stick, oblivious to the fact that it had remained in the hand of the Winchester.

"Real mature," Sam flatly said, lips twisted into a small frown, arms crossed in disappointment. His brother could be such a meanie! What if the little werewolf got lost? Sam repeated his line of thinking, mouthed the words, and mentally slapped himself. _Some Hunter I am!_

"I try," Dean back-sassed, to which Sam half-heartedly retorted, "and fail – miserably, too!"

"Eh, I leave the mature business to _you,_ Princess."

The little werewolf returned before either of the Winchesters could voice another insult, and with some grace, it dropped another stick in front of them, though this one was already sanded and seemed to have a…design and handle? What?

"Uh…" Dean hesitated to pick it up and instead glanced from the strange stick to the equally strange retriever. "Good boy?"

"Yip!"

( _Duh!_ )

" _ **TEDDY!**_ "

A yell echoed through the woods as a young man came crashing through the thorny bushes in pursuit of the werewolf. He stumbled out, muttered something about the Floo Network, and absently pulled the leaves and briar out of his thick, black hair. A scar, in the shape of a small lightning bolt, peeked out from beneath his bangs. And Sam recognized him instantly.

"Harry!" Sam exclaimed, ecstatic to see the other boy, though how the boy looked _exactly_ the same after all this time baffled him. He was still short, thin, and wearing those bizarre black glasses, which had nearly fallen off the bridge of his nose as the boy raced through the woods.

Dean snorted, too tired to bother with being surprised. "You know, I think they should switch names – the wolf is hairy, and the boy is as cute as a teddy bear. Makes more sense, don't you think?"

"Aw," Harry cooed, "You really think I'm cute, Dean?" The Wizard fluttered his long eyelashes at the older (well, sort-of, but not at _this_ moment) male, pretending to blush.

Dean made a face at him.

"You…named him Teddy?" Sam asked the smaller – but obviously not _younger_ – male. He hesitantly continued, "You do realize that it's a werewolf, right? It's not a regular dog, or a pet…"

"Of course," The Wizard laughed at his concern and rolled his emerald-green eyes. His cheerful expression actually became stony and solemn for a minute. "His father was a werewolf and, unfortunately, passed it down to him. He and his Mum named him Edward Lupin, after his grandfather, Ted, but most of us call him Teddy."

"Lupin," Sam repeated with an incredulous look, and his big brain helpfully spat out the meaning of the word _lupine._ "Uh, not to be rude or anything, but doesn't that mean _wolf_ in Latin?"

Far from offended, Harry snorted at his question, finding his good cheer again. "Oh, I know. His father was named Remus Lupin, which kinda makes him, like, the son of Moon Moon." A soft snicker escaped from between his lips.

Terribly confused, Sam blinked owlishly down at him and asked, "What's a moon moon?" But Harry was already ahead of him and had muttered, "Ah, I forget that you aren't going to be familiar with that internet meme yet…"

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't come out until 2013, so…" Harry shrugged his shoulders at the youngest Winchester.

"You mean you're from the _future?_ " Dean asked, incredulously, and with his hands thrown up in the air. Sam refrained from telling him that he looked just like Dad. It would've made his head bigger.

"Kind of?" Harry said with another shrug. This was really hard to explain to Muggles, especially when the Muggles in question were also Hunters and could shoot his bollocks off. "I've been doing a lot of back and forth with Teddy, here, since the end of the War."

"Which war?" Dean demanded. "Yeah, right! Pull the other one, Doc Brown! You barely look a day over sixteen, like Sam! Just as cute and baby-faced." And Sam used aforementioned baby-face to give his brother his patented Bitch Face to hiss - " _Dean!_ "

"I'm more of a Marty McFly, but to answer your question, the Second Wizarding War," Harry answered calmly, "but enough about that! Have either of you seen a small stick, about this long…?" The Wizard held his hands out to mime about the length of a ruler and a half. "It's wooden, and brown – uh, like most sticks."

"You mean the thing that the Big Bad Wolf here has been playing fetch with for the last ten minutes?" Dean sarcastically asked and pointed his thumb to the stick in question, which the little wolf had been quietly gnawing on as the three of them flapped their lips.

" _ **TEDDY!**_ " Harry shrieked in all capitals, as the boy always seemed to do when addressing his Godson, and dove for little-boy-turned-wolf. He tapped him on the nose repeatedly and muttered, "Drop it! DROP IT!"

"You know that makes you Little Red Riding Hood, right?" Sam snickered to him in an aside while watching the Wizard fuss at the werewolf puppy. Who'd have thought? The life of Sam Winchester is an interesting one!

"Bad puppy! You know better than to chew on my wand!" Harry scolded him by shaking his finger in front of his cute little face. The little werewolf hung his head and, much to their amazement, changed into the form of a two-year-old little boy. A _human_ boy.

Teddy pouted at him, lip jutted out and two big crocodile tears trailing out of his brown eyes as a whimper bypassed his teeth – "Sowwy, Hawwy. Didn't wanna make you mad. Just wanna pway."

Harry blinked, and his frown melted away. The Wizard snatched the little boy into his arms, squeezed the life out of him, and cooed into his blue hair, making soft _hushing_ noises. "Aw! You're just too _cute!_ Come here, you!"

"What are they doing?" Sam asked, and Dean snorted, "I think they're having a moment." The two Hunters watched in morbid fascination as the pair interacted; Teddy yawned and dropped his head onto Harry, tiny cheek pressed to his thin shoulder.

"I think it's naptime," Harry crooned down at his Godson, petting his blue hair with gentle hands, hoping to soothe him to sleep. _Good puppy!_

"'m not sweepy," Teddy whined around his yawn and, to the delight of his Godfather, stuck his thumb in his mouth and began to suck on it.

"Uh-huh," Harry said with amusement, "Most certainly not." He smirked down at the gently snoring boy. "Anyway, I think it's about time Teddy and I get out of here. Thanks for finding Teddy for me! Oh! My wand, too." The Wizard flashed them the peace sign. "See you two around!"

 _ **POP!**_

Before either Winchester could protest, Harry and Teddy were gone.

"So cool," Sam mumbled to himself and, thankfully, too quietly to be heard because just seconds later, John Winchester stomped back around the brick wall and down the hill.

"Damn witches," Daddy Winchester growled fiercely around his lit cigarette. He dropped it to the ground and rubbed it out with the sole of his boot. "There were two of them squatting in there, I could tell, but by the time I got through their wards, all I got was this note!"

"A note?" Dean asked, his words laced with his curiosity. "What did it say?"

"I don't know!" John threw his hands up in the air, clearly frustrated and done with the whole damn situation. "It's addressed to _Sam_ , and I can't get it to open! I even tried _burning_ the goddamn thing! No luck!"

Dean raised his eyebrows, impressed by this little trick but unwilling to admit to it, especially to his Dad, of all people. "Huh…"

Meanwhile, Sam had snatched the letter from his hands and easily opened it, since it had been addressed to his signature with Magic. While John Winchester continued to rage and throw his little temper tantrum, Dean stepped forward to peek around his shoulder, too short to actually stare _over_ it.

 _Sam (– and Dean, too, because you're like the barnacle to his whale),_

 _If you're reading this letter, then I win AGAIN! Bow down before your QUEEN! Why queen, you ask? Well, it's a really long story – one that I don't have time to write about at the moment. Don't worry! You'll find out what I mean in about, oh, seven years?_

 _Anyway, I solved that case you were working! A couple of Dark Wizards escaped Azkaban. Again. You know, you'd think they would have heightened security there before this rot, what with all the break-outs and everything, but what do_ _ **I**_ _know? It's not like I battled and beat a Dark Lord! Nope. Not me!_

 _So yeah, I only knocked them out, but I shipped them off back off to Azkaban, and_ _ **this**_ _time, I have the promise of the Minister that they will STAY there! Kingsley even got two dragons to guard the place! Isn't that wicked?!_

Here, the pen – or whatever it had been written in – suddenly jerked off the page. A couple of ink smudges dotted the next three inches of parchment. The rest of the letter was written hastily, like the author had suddenly had good reason to fear for his life.

 _Blimey! Hermione just found the biting teacup I stashed in her cupboard two weeks ago. She's on the warpath. So I gotta fly. Accio, Firebolt, anyone?_

 _Sorry about all the trouble! Tell John not to get his panties all in a twist, yeah?_

 _Oh, before I forget – Teddy says, "Hi, Uncle Sam and Uncle Dean! Don't forget to bring me a souvenir next time!"_

 _MUCH LOVE from your favorite Wizard and the President/Queen of the Hard-to-Kill-Club,_

 _Harry J. Potter_

Dean and Sam both stared down at the crinkled sheet of paper. The older Winchester rubbed at his weary eyes and muttered, "Ugh, I _really_ hate Witches."

"And werewolves?" Sam asked, stunned but amused.

"YES."

* * *

***Author's Note***

Long time, no write, I know. My life has been chaotic since I became an "adult." Nobody let on that that Life doesn't give refunds! :P

Much like Harry couldn't resist traveling back in time to meet the Baby Winchesters, I couldn't resist playing around with the idea of a Baby Teddy. He is the inspiration for this chapter. All bow down before Teddy! :D Isn't he adorable?

 **Up Next:** _In Which Dean Adopts A Wizard_

 **PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!**


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